A Midnight Meeting
by NeverNotEver
Summary: A night studying leads to a romantic interlude with the one person Hermione would do anything to be rid of. Will she be able to survive fifth year with a twisted romance causing trouble?
1. Chapter 1

***This story was originally posted in 2011, but has since been reviewed and reposted as of 1/26/14. I loved writing a bit of Dramione drabble as a fun side project to something larger I have been working on, but I thought I'd take the time to turn this into a story with multiple chapters.

If anyone is interested in leaving ideas and comments about where you think this should be headed, I'd love to hear. I really didn't have something concrete in mind just yet, and I am (fortunately or unfortunately) writing as I go. Chapter 2 is up as well, so take a look.

Please bear with me when I explain that I am trying to keep this true to the books and as linear to OotP as possible, but there are some inconsistencies that do not affect the plot line as a whole. My apologies in that regard. Even so, I hope you read, enjoy, and comment!***

The only time Hermione ever felt free was when she was submerged in the pages of her favorite books. Rune translations and her volumes on Muggle studies noffered her another world apart from her own that let her mind open to the possibilities that there was order to the world after all. It wasn't that she was tired of her new life as a witch, but that her perfectly organized life had taken many unexpected turns since her friendship with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter began five years ago. She clutched the books to her chest while she roamed an empty corridor and thought fleetingly of her life before a single letter had arrived and changed her life forever.

With her eyes on her feet, Hermione rounded a corner and collided with a very solid figure. Her books crashed to the floor with a sound like thunder that echoed down the vast corridor. She hurriedly crouched down to pick them up before the bindings were ruined and muttered apologies to the floor.

"Really, very sorry," she blurted out in her embarrassment, "All my fault-"

"Can it, Granger," a familiar drawling voice said from above her, "You're going to get us in trouble. Not that I care about you, of course."

Hermione looked up to see the quite unshaken form of Draco Malfoy leaning nonchalantly against the stone wall a few feet from where she crouched. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers and a mocking grin on his face. An involuntary wave of irritation found its way up her spine and she stood with her books back in her arms, brushing stray strands of curly hair from her face.

"What do you mean, I'll get us in trouble? It's only-" she gazed quickly out a window and was met by a deep navy sky speckled with stars. "Oh." So she had spent a bit more time in the library than she expected. The imminent threat of O.W.L.s had consumed her conscience for the last four weeks and often times she found herself passing hours at a time in the library, lost to the outside world.

"Haven't got much of a social life, have you?" he mused while plucking a piece of lint off his school robes, "I can't imagine Potter and the Weasel are much fun."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but caught sight of something that sent another shiver down her spine. To her immense shock, Draco's eyes slid down her length and traveled back up to an area below her chin. A hot, creeping blush colored her cheeks and she ignored the warmth coiling in her stomach._Impossible. The darkness must be playing tricks on me._

"What I do in my free time is my business, Malfoy. And if you must know, Harry and Ron are ten times as much fun as this little meeting has been."

She shifted the weight of the books in her arms and watched with satisfaction as Draco's grin slid off his face, replaced by a small scowl. He took a step toward her and shrugged his shoulders. "If I wanted to, I could show you how much fun I can _really_ be."

As he moved forward, Hermione took a step back. His comment echoed in her mind and the warm coils in her stomach seemed to tighten.

"How much fun you..." Her sentence trailed off as she tried to comprehend Draco's meaning.

"Yes, Granger. I can be _loads_ of fun," he said as he took another step closer, "If you know what I mean." His eyes locked with hers and a small, mocking smile turned the corners if his lips up. Hermione stepped backwards again and was met by the cool stone blocks of the corridor wall at her back. She shook her head and felt her heart begin pounding faster as he advanced. Surely he meant to take advantage of the deserted castle and enjoy his chance encounter with a Mudblood. Hermione found herself recalling their run-in last year at the Quidditch World Cup when he'd teased her about being dangled upside down with her knickers revealed for everyone to see like that poor Muggle woman. Was that the sort of fun he intended to have now?

"Of course you wouldn't know," he continued. "You're probably stiffer than old McGonagall, and that's saying something."

"Just let me leave, Malfoy," Hermione spat, mustering all the courage she could. There was something different about Draco's demeanor, she realized. She forced herself to really look at the things he'd been saying, and the way he held himself. Or it might have been the way he looked at her. His voice held no traces of the hatred or disgust that it usually did, but rather uncertainty, she noticed. "I'm sure you have plenty of other people to bother."

For a moment it looked as though Draco was confused. His steel-gray eyes held some emotion Hermione couldn't make out and his footsteps were slow and measured. He stopped only a foot away from her and looked her over once more.

"Would you like me to explain?" he whispered, ignoring her last comment. His breath was warm against her cheek and in the silence of the deserted corridor she could almost hear his steady heartbeat. Without waiting for a response, he lifted one hand and placed it on her shoulder. Hermione flinched, trying to move away, but he moved his other hand to lean against the wall next to her head.

She was trapped.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked, fear saturating every syllable. A lump had formed in her throat and her breathing became heavier. Surely he would curse her. No one would find her until morning, possibly covered in boils or with her front teeth the size of floor boards again. An involuntary whimper escaped her, and the brave Hermione that clocked him in their third year was nowhere to be found. But- Hermione managed to console herself- where was his wand?

Another odd expression crossed Draco's face and the hand on her shoulder slid slowly up to the soft skin of her throat. His fingers traced gentle patterns and Hermione watched in shock as the muscles in his jaw flexed, as if he were clenching his teeth. Words eluded her and she could only stand still while he touched her.

"You know," Draco said after a minute of silence, "Sometimes I say things I don't mean." He looked into her eyes and frowned. "I don't know how to tell you this."

All Hermione could think to do was struggle against him until he let her go. What was supposed to be a quick walk back to the common room had turned into an outrageous dream. She would wake up in her four poster bed soon and laugh at the absurdity of her own imagination. Right?

Wrong. As Draco swallowed, Hermione watched the muscles in his throat work. There was something wrong with the way he held himself so close to her. He moved his face down to hers and paused briefly before taking a shuddering breath and pressing his lips against hers. She closed her eyes and felt his soft flesh whisper over her in the most gentle of ways. It was over as soon as it began. Draco pulled back and looked at her steadily, waiting for her to respond. Her eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head.

"W-why?" she whispered, looking him square in the eyes.

"_Merlin_, Granger!" he muttered in exasperation. He ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair and sighed. "I think I love you, okay?" The gentleness he'd displayed only seconds before had vanished as easily as it had come. He turned away as if to leave, but faced her again for a moment. "For someone so brilliant, you really are quite slow."

And with that, he ghosted down the corridor and out of sight. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, trying to grasp what Draco had just said. _I think I love you, okay?_She picked up the books that had once again fallen from her arms and slowly began to walk back to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione never thought about the possibility of someone falling in love with her. Sure, Viktor told her he loved her the year before, but they only spoke every once in a while now. It couldn't have been true love. But _Draco_? Every word from his mouth since their first year at Hogwarts had been cruel and mocking.

Before she knew it, she was in her bed staring blankly into the darkness. The warm coils in her stomach never abated and she forced herself to consider the possibility that what she felt meant there were feelings inside her for him too. Rude, abrasive, spoiled, narcissistic Malfoy had just confessed his love for her. Bloody hell.


	2. Chapter 2

The glasses of Firewhiskey refilled themselves and Celestina Warbeck could be heard crooning in the background of the small living room. Hermione sat on the edge of the sofa watching Fred and George decorate the Christmas tree and Ron swiftly beat Harry in another game of Wizard's chess. She smiled to herself, enjoying the sound of laughter and the smell of Mrs. Weasley's baking coming from the kitchen. Remus sat in a squashy armchair with Tonks perched in his lap and Hagrid occupied a spindly stool in the corner by the fireplace while he warmed his hands.

The usually-packed headquarters for the Order seemed even more congested than usual, but Hermione preferred it that way. She sipped her Firewhiskey, letting it burn the back of her throat and warm her from the inside out. Feeling sluggish and content to watch the bustle of activities around her, Hermione allowed her mind to wander back to the night that Draco confessed his feelings. It still felt surreal to her and she occasionally doubted whether or not it had actually happened. A month had passed since that strange encounter and Draco was acting even colder to her than usual. What worried her the most wasn't that he had kissed her, but that she hadn't minded it one bit.

"What's got you so quiet tonight, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked as he took a seat next to her. He took a bite of the tart on his plate and looked at her curiously.

"Oh," Hermione replied, blushing, "I suppose there are a lot of things." She avoided his gaze and watched as Fred sneakily stuffed a Doxie in his pocket that had been hiding in the Christmas tree. Mr. Weasley nodded and went silent for a moment, enjoying his dessert.

"I may be wrong in assuming, but does this have anything to do with a boy?"

Going scarlet, Hermione glanced at him and shook her head. "Erm, no. Not at all." She took another quick sip from her glass, averting her eyes. Perhaps he would contribute her blush to the drink, Hermione hoped. It wasn't like Mr. Weasley to be so perceptive, but then again, his newest Muggle obsession ("It's called a calculator! Just brilliant!) had broken a few hours earlier and he now had nothing to occupy himself.

Mr. Weasley nodded, leaned in to her and looked around before muttering, "I know it may be difficult to tell someone how you feel, but sometimes you just have to take that leap."  
>Hermione glanced up from her glass and looked curiously at him. <em>Tell him how you feel?<em>

"Erm, sorry, but who are we talking about?" she asked in the same lowered voice.

"Ron, of course," he answered instantly.

She felt the blush color her cheeks again and fell silent, suddenly mortified. Ron was her best friend, so of course his parents would be expecting them to date. It seemed like the logical thing to have happen. As Mr. Weasley smiled, wrongly interpreting her blush as his answer, Hermione felt her heart sink a bit and settle somewhere in the region of her stomach. Suddenly her encounter with Draco made her want to run screaming.

_I think I love you, okay?_

Draco had spoken those words the night he caught her off guard on her way back from the library. It had been like something out of a very bizarre dream, and every so often she would hear his voice echo those words in her head. Of course she hadn't told Harry or Ron about what happened. _Especially_ not Ron. Likely they would have taken the first opportunity to fight him, and the last thing Hermione wanted was another black mark on their records.

She was always grateful for Harry and Ron's presence in her life, though. While she sat on the sofa staring vacantly into the fireplace, all of the adventures the three of them had had flashed through her head. It felt ridiculous to think of having feelings for someone she shared only bitter memories with. Where was Draco when she was fighting off a mountain troll? He hadn't cared or even taken notice of her absence from the feast that night. Harry and Ron had. And where was Draco when she was cornered in the Shrieking Shack by a supposed prison escapee? Sitting pretty in the Slytherin common room replaying Harry's fall from his broom at the last Quidditch game, no doubt.

So where are these absurd feelings coming from?

_Nowhere, _Hermione told herself, _I'm just stressed and a bit delusional from being so busy. _

With a new resolve, Hermione stood up and drained the remaining whiskey from her glass. Ron and Harry looked up at her from their seats around the chess table.

"Going to bed already?" Ron asked. Hermione couldn't be sure, but there may have been a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Hermione," George piped up from somewhere behind the Christmas tree. She watched as he and Fred managed to stuff a few more Doxies in their already lumpy pockets. She suppressed a grin and shrugged.

"If I don't sleep soon, I might fall over."

Harry nodded in agreement and stretched. "I'll be off too, then."

A quick glance between the two and Ron stood abruptly, nearly upending the chess table.

"Erm," he mumbled, going red around the ears, "Sleep actually sounds good."

After saying goodnight to the rest of the group (Hagrid already snoring loudly into his tankard of drink), they ascended the narrow staircase to the second floor hall. Harry yawned and found his and Ron's room, opening the door to a very excited Pigwidgeon. Hermione heard Hedwig hoot dolefully from somewhere inside as well.

She padded further down the hall to a door marked with a worn gold placard, the name illegible after so many years. A sign hung over top of it that read, "Ginny and Hermione's Room." A smile pulled up the corners of her mouth when she remembered watching Ginny scrawl out the new door tag. "That plaque is so depressing!" she heard Ginny saying when they moved in, "I don't want to think about all the creeps who lived here before."

Hermione turned the doorknob and glanced back down the hall where Ron was paused, apparently struggling with a thought.

"Ron?" she said, "What's wrong?"

He hesitated for a moment more before crossing to where she stood.

"I, um, just wanted to know..." he started, but let the sentence trail off.

"Know what?" she prompted him. A painful pang in her chest alerted her to the question he might be trying to ask. _Please, Ron, let it go. Don't do this now..._

"Hermione..."

She took a deep breath and looked up at him hesitantly. Just as she feared, his emotions played out in his eyes like an open book. Before she could tell him not to speak, he whispered, "I love you."

It was as quiet as a soft breeze, and Hermione wasn't even really sure he spoke at all, but the way he was looking at her with a tenderness she'd never seen before told her that she hadn't heard wrong.

"Ron, I-" she tried to respond as best she could, but the words wouldn't come out. How could she possibly tell him that she may have feelings for Draco Malfoy?

_He would never talk to you again._

Perhaps she was only confused. Perhaps her nervousness could be contributed to Ron's proximity. She could feel his breath flutter the stray strands of her hair and his body heat emanate on her skin. His eyes roamed over her legs, her arms, her shoulders, then came to rest expectantly on her face again. Hermione knew that he was expecting some sort of response, but nothing came to mind.

_You could love him, you know, Ron. You could have a happy life with him if you gave him a chance. You're simply confused about Draco, but that means nothing. Just give him a chance._

Before she could reason with her own logic, Hermione slipped one hand around Ron's neck and quickly pressed her lips against his. His intake of breath told her that he was just as surprised as she was, but he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and responded eagerly. It was quite a different feeling than the hasty kiss she had shared with Draco. Ron was gentle and almost afraid of moving wrongly against her. One of his hands found the soft skin of her cheek while the other gripped the back of her sweater.

When she pulled away and opened her eyes, Ron was wearing an expression halfway between reverence and shock. She knew that her face must mirror his and looked away while she untangled herself from his arms

"Erm, Ron, I-" she started to say, but she wasn't sure of her own words. Instead of feeling giddy or excited by his kiss, she felt only more unsure. "Goodnight," was all she could offer.

Ron's smile was undeterred by her hasty reaction, and she could have sworn that he skipped once on his way down the hall to his and Harry's bedroom.

Great.

Now that she and Ron had kissed, word was surely going to spread to Harry, then Ginny, and of course the twins. All hopes of secrecy would be gone at that point. The dynamic duo of pranksters would probably paint a congratulations banner for the happy new couple by morning.

Hermione slipped out of her jumper and corduroy pants and curled into a ball underneath her comforter. Ginny entered some time later, but so consumed was Hermione in her turbulent thoughts that she couldn't tell how late it was. Ginny didn't speak, probably assuming her roommate was asleep. When the sky outside her window slipped from navy into midnight black, Hermione sat up, deserting her attempts to go to sleep.

No sounds could be heard from the first floor, meaning that the adults must have called it a night and made their way to bed. Hermione slipped her arms into her favorite maroon robe and, in the darkness, let her feet find the slippers set neatly at the foot of her bed. As she tiptoed silently from her room, being careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards, she tied the cloth belt of her robe into a messy knot around her waist and snuck into the kitchen.

Tea always seemed to relax Hermione, probably a habit she acquired from her parents. If ever there was a problem or an important question needing answered, the kettle was put on. Kreacher could be heard in the hallway mumbling under his breath, but Hermione had long since learned to ignore him. Her heart always ached at the injustice of the situations House Elves were forced into, but tonight it was the farthest thing from her mind.

She quietly opened a cabinet where the glasses were shelved, and fumbled a bit in the semi-darkness for a china cup she'd gotten attached to in her stay at Grimmauld Place. The moon shone brilliantly through the kitchen's only window, and Hermione was thankful for its light as she found and filled the beaten up tin kettle, setting it to boil on the stove.

"Can't sleep?" a deep voice spoke from the doorway. Hermione nearly screamed in surprise, but stopped herself. She spun around to meet whomever was there while her hand fluttered to her chest. Sirius Black stood leaning against the door frame in a way that reminded her of Draco so many nights ago. She blinked away the thought and smiled, thankful for the company.

"No," she replied, turning back to the window. "Why are you still up?"

"I could never imagine a time when I would be hoping for more peace and quiet," Sirius answered, taking a seat at the long table in the center of the room. "You'd think I would be grateful for the company, right?"

Hermione nodded, laughing quietly. "I expect it's quite a change after having so much time to yourself." She turned again to face him, leaning back against the counter top with her arms crossed over her chest.

Sirius nodded, looking at her slight frame silhouetted in the moonlight. "Yes, it is. These days I can hardly hear myself think."

"You're lucky," Hermione offered before she could stop herself.

A curious look crossed the older man's face, but he smoothed it over and shrugged in response. It looked to Hermione as if he had something to say, but she was met with silence until the shrill whistle of the kettle split the air. She whirled around to remove it from the stove before the whole house was woken up, and grabbed another cup from the cupboard for her nighttime company.

Sirius took his tea straight while Hermione spooned in a bit of sugar. A few minutes passed in silence with the two sipping their hot drinks. Every once in a while Hermione would look up at Sirius where he sat across from her at the table. His eyes met with hers once or twice, but the look Hermione found wasn't what she'd seen in Draco's or Ron's. It was only curious instead of possessive.

It was nice not to feel as though Sirius was imposing on her thoughts with invasive questions or presumptive remarks. He was quiet, pleasant company. She took the time to study his features that night while they exchanged muted conversation over tea. Sirius had strong features that she remembered seeing echoed in the ancestral tapestries throughout the house. His eyes were dark, almost haunted looking, and the sallowness had disappeared from his face where once it dominated his features. Although it felt a bit strange at first because they were still nearly strangers, Hermione found talking Sirius to be a distraction from the drama she was plunged into as of late. He asked polite questions about her studies at Hogwarts and her family back home. He wanted to know what her favorite shop was in Hogsmeade and where she had vacationed as a child.

The last of the tea was finished and Sirius stood to put their cups into the sink. For the first time that night, Hermione felt relaxed.

"I should be off," Sirius said with a yawn. Hermione nodded and stood from her seat at the table.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Sirius stood for a moment by the door of the kitchen and looked at her once more. A ghost of a smile played on his lips before he disappeared into the hall like the ghost everyone thought him to be. Hermione smiled to herself, suddenly wondering if she'd found someone to confide in. Sirius Black, of all people.


	3. Chapter 3

***Here's chapter 3! Thank you guys so much for your comments and input. I hope you enjoy this next bit, although it's a little shorter than I was hoping. I am in a hurry, though, to get the story on an exciting track. If you have suggestions, suggest them! If you have questions, then ask! Your input is what helps this story get better, so please PLEASE let me know what you think. I am always open to new ideas. Thanks!***

Christmas Eve came in a flurry of fat snowflakes. Hermione had had a nearly peaceful holiday from her troubles, if one didn't count Mr. Weasley's snake attack. He was yet to come home from St. Mungo's, but he was doing fine, thanks in large part to Harry's unnerving new ability. It seemed as though everyone was settling themselves back into their routines with the Order.

Hermione worried, of course, about how Harry was able to cope with Dumbledore's determination to keep him at arm's length during all of this. Her best friend was surly and irritable, and had taken recently to closing himself off from his friends as a way of sorting himself out, she assumed. Seclusion, in Hermione's eyes, was a terrible weapon. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must have known that this would happen if Harry was adamant with the public about His return. That's why she had elected to stay with the Order this year over break. Skiing wasn't her favorite activity, and her parents had seemed to understand well enough that she was overwhelmed with her studies and needed the holiday to prepare. At least that's what she'd told them.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she shifted her position on the sofa in the library wing that had become her refuge. Most of the Christmas celebrating was happening elsewhere in the headquarters, but Hermione was content to submerge herself in her studies. O.W.L.s were nothing to take lightly, she knew, even if everyone else had put their exams on the backburner for the time being.

A knock sounded from the hallway just outside the library door, and Hermione looked up to see Ginny strolling in. She had a new Weasley sweater on, emblazoned with a large letter 'G' on the front.

"Not in the mood for Christmas this year?" she asked curiously.

Hermione shook her head and closed her _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_, setting it aside. "No," she answered with a guilty look at her friend. "It doesn't feel like this is it. I don't feel like I've had the time this year to enjoy myself."

"I know what you mean," Ginny answered. Hermione looked up at her and trailed her gaze into the open doorway of the drawing room where Harry was hanging bulbs on the Christmas tree Mundungus had procured for them. Ron, Lupin, and Tonks could also be seen standing around laughing and talking, but Hermione knew that it was Harry she was looking at by the way her brows were knitted together. It seemed as though Hermione wasn't the only one with someone occupying her thoughts. The holiday had been handy in lifting everyone's spirits for the time being, but both girls were aware that its effects wouldn't be lasting.

"We should at least try," Hermione resolved. "Harry needs a little Christmas joy. And so does Sirius."

"I think we all do," Ginny agreed.

That evening was a bustle of activity. Songs were being sang (rather loudly on Sirius's end), fresh pies were pulled from the oven every hour by Mrs. Weasley, and presents were already being exchanged by those Order members coming and going from the Grimmauld Place. Hermione found herself easily distracted by the whirlwind of people, food, stories, and laughter that filled the house after indulging in a glass of Firewhiskey.

She hadn't meant to make a habit of drinking, but one or two glasses over the holidays didn't make her a drunkard, she reasoned. Small tumblers of the golden liquid were being freely passed by Sirius and Tonks, and in whose hands they ended up could be anyone's guess.

Her cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes shone bright with the laughter as the twins joined together in a lively dance while everyone sang and clapped along.

It took Hermione a while to let herself relax, and admittedly, she hadn't thought once about Umbridge's educational decrees or Dumbledore's Army, or anything of that sort all night. It was far too difficult to find room in her mind for such worries while sitting in a room full of merriment and high spirits.

Before long, Mrs. Weasley had ushered Ginny up to bed and the twins had slipped out to do Merlin-knows-what. Ron and Harry sat discussing Quidditch on the sofa in the drawing room by the Christmas tree, and the rest of the company were scattered amongst the kitchen, picking at the hors d'oeuvres set out on the dining table or helping themselves to more drinks.

Hermione considered calling it a night, and had just stood up from her cozy seat by the fireplace when Sirius made his way over to her side. He set down his drink on a nearby table and slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"It's so much more bearable being cooped up in here when everyone else is too," he said cheerily, without his usual sarcasm.

Hermione nodded in agreement, sipping from her tumbler and taking in the cozy atmosphere. It looked as though, despite her objections to Sirius's inclusion of Harry in their Order discussions, Mrs. Weasley had taken the time to knit him a scarf. It was swirled fashionably around his neck in an explosion of silver, green, and black. Hermione smirked.

"I think Molly is stereotyping," he said, lifting an end of it and letting it fall again. He joined her in laughing and picked up his glass from the table, taking a large gulp. "I really am appreciative of what you and the others have done to transform this place," he said casually. "It's almost worth making new memories here now."

Hermione drained her glass and glanced at Sirius's changed expression. "You haven't any memories worth recalling?"

He shook his head a little sadly and shrugged. "The best times of my life were spent with James when I was able to leave home. It was escaping, in essence, and I don't know that I ever regretted that."

"I wish it were that easy for me," Hermione said before she could stop herself. "I don't regret being friends with Ron and Harry, but it's hard sometimes. They can face it head on- the mysteries and danger- whereas I…" she sighed, "I want to run screaming some days. I don't feel like I'm allowed to show that part of me. Not while I'm supposed to be the brightest witch of my age."

It was a while that they stood in silence, watching their company slowly make his or her way towards the door to leave. Hermione thought that perhaps she had come off too strong in her honesty, or that maybe he took her words to be the prattling of an angsty teen. She held her crystal glass between her fingers, watching the way the glow from the fire shone through its many decorative facets.

She didn't notice Sirius's eyes trained on her, a thoughtful look on his face. Embarrassment colored her cheeks and had her gaze fixed solidly on the embroidered carpet beneath their feet. Suddenly Hermione felt as though she'd just handed over her diary for Sirius to leaf through.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, setting her glass down and avoiding eye contact. "I should be off to bed."

Sirius smiled politely and lifted a hand as though to wave goodbye, but Hermione had already turned and moved quickly to the staircase. Kingsley Shacklebolt moved to his side moments later to discuss Mr. Weasley's recovery progress, forcing the image of smooth, flushed skin from his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

***This chapter is one of my favorites so far because I really think that it's setting the story into motion. I hope you will overlook my slight shift in the timeline of J.K. Rowling's book, because I've introduced a new element a bit early. Whoops! Even so, I hope you guys enjoy this one and please, _please_, **PLEASE **leave me your feedback. Thanks!***

For the remainder of her stay at Grimmauld Place, Hermione had felt quite ridiculous. After all, she'd only been trying to make conversation with Sirius. He'd opened up about his childhood to her, and she had done the same. What brought these feelings of silliness on was the fact that he hadn't spoken two words to her since their conversation on Christmas Eve. It was unlike Hermione to question herself, but now it had almost become part of her routine.

"What are you doing?" Ginny laughed from her spot on the bed behind Hermione. Their bags were nearly packed and there was an air of sadness about the house as their last night before returning to school was drawing to a close. Everyone would be called to dinner soon, and Hermione was feeling an unexplained bout of nerves. The urge to look good tonight had taken over. Whom it was she was meaning to impress was yet to be determined.

"I don't know," she answered in frustration. She had tried on nearly every shirt in her trunk and still hadn't settled on anything. "This color really makes me look pale, doesn't it?"

She tugged at the hem of the sweater she'd just pulled on and spun this way and that in front of the antique full-length mirror that decorated their shared room.

"There's something you aren't telling me," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Are you going with someone? Oh!"

Hermione whirled around to face her friend with a sheepish look on her face.

"Is it _Ron_?" Ginny gasped. She rocked forward on the bed, waiting for a response to a question Hermione secretly thought was ridiculous. Ron's advances had been rather subdued since the night they had kissed. It almost felt as though he were too afraid to try for another snog in the event that Hermione would turn him down. It was a safe bet in her eyes. She had felt terrible about their interlude since the moment it had happened.

Busying herself with the task of trying on yet another top, Hermione did her best to sound nonchalant.

"I just want to go through my old clothes, that's all. Maybe a donation could be arranged to give them to the House Elves in the kitchens. Dobby has been enjoying his, hasn't he?"

Ginny rolled her eyes behind Hermione's back and bounced off of the bed to come stand next to her. She grabbed a red silk blouse that Hermione had been trying to stuff hastily into the bottom of her trunk and held it up.

"Wow, Hermione," she said with a hint of awe in her tone, "I don't think the House Elves will be needing this one. "

She snatched it back from Ginny, feeling even more ridiculous than ever. It hadn't really been her intention to wear her silk blouse while on holiday, but she kept it with her when she travelled just in case the occasion called for something fancier. On a whim, Hermione had pulled it out of her trunk, thinking that it was her last chance to show of the bit of silk before returning to Hogwarts.

"Try it on! I want to see," Ginny said excitedly.

Hermione sighed, wishing for one moment that she had had a room of her own. With resignation, she slipped her T-shirt off over her head and let it drop to the floor. The silk fabric was cool on her bare skin, slipping down over her curves in one fluid movement. She came to stand once more in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her reflection. The bright red fabric brought a natural blush into her complexion, and Ginny moved behind her to gently pull the clip from her hair to let her curls tumble freely.

"You look so beautiful," Ginny said honestly.

The thick straps rested comfortably on her shoulders, which Hermione always hated because she thought they looked too bony, and the low, heart shaped neckline accentuated her chest nicely. The fabric clung to her frame and hugged at her waist, highlighting her petite figure where her sweaters simply hid it. Ginny's decision to let the chestnut waves of Hermione's hair loose coupled with a black pencil skirt from her closet completed the impromptu outfit choice. She had to admit that it was a nice change to feel feminine, and Ginny was right. She felt beautiful.

Dinner, Hermione guessed, would be a quiet affair after Sirius's tussle earlier on that day with Professor Snape. It had been a shocking scene to walk in on, with poor Harry in between the two men who had wands pointed at the other's face. As Hermione understood it, Snape had come bearing news that Harry was to take Occlumency lessons along with his regular schedule of classes.

She'd known that there was bad blood between Sirius and Snape, but it was nonetheless exhilarating to see _notorious mass murderer_ Sirius Black in his element. Wand drawn, heavy breathing, fire in his eyes…

Hermione blinked herself back to the present. She and Ginny were making their way downstairs for dinner, with Hermione in her bit of silk. Ginny gave her an encouraging smile as they entered the crowded kitchen.

"Oh, Hermione dear," Mrs. Weasley gushed. "Don't you just look lovely!"

Hermione smiled demurely and thanked her, taking a seat in between Harry and George. Sirius sat across from her at the table and a few seats down with Lupin and Mr. Weasley on either side of him. Ron sat on Harry's other side determinedly avoiding her eyes.

Ginny took a seat directly across from Hermione where they could converse easily about their return trip to Hogwarts. Conversation was dull, as she expected, with the twins joking amongst themselves and occasionally getting a laugh out of Sirius and Ginny. Hermione didn't much feel like laughing, although it was nice to see the glimmer in Sirius's eyes whenever he smiled.

Hermione blinked again and tried to focus on the custard that Mrs. Weasley set before them for dessert. Why was it that the tall, dark, older man they had brought back into Harry's life two years ago was suddenly finding a place in hers? Every once in a while, Hermione would find his eyes coming to rest on hers from across the table. She dismissed it as being of no consequence, but there was also a small part of her that wanted him to continue. She wanted him to complement her, and laugh at her jokes, and tell her to write letters to him while she was away at school. Hermione wanted his attention.

The remainder of their meal passed before she knew it, and Hermione found herself slowly moving towards the stairs to convene with Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins in their rooms to finish packing. She placed a hand on the ornately carved banister and began to ascend the steps behind her friends when another much larger hand came to rest next to hers.

"Hermione, a moment?"

She lifted her gaze to find Sirius standing at the foot of the stairs with a kind smile on his face.

"Of course," she said timidly. The flush of color to her cheeks came without warning and she couldn't quite bring herself to return the small gesture.

"I wanted to let you know that I heard what you said on Christmas Eve. If you ever find yourself needing somewhere to turn, my doors are always open."

Hermione nodded her head, looking down. "Thank you."

He smiled again and turned to walk down the hallway back to the kitchen. As he moved, Hermione could have sworn that his fingers brushed against hers.

The trip to Hogwarts on the Knight Bus left Hermione feeling a bit queasy. By the time they had arrived at the gates, she felt sympathetic for poor Madam Marsh. The rocking back and forth coupled with several abrupt stops gave Hermione the impression of being aboard a ship at sea.

They trudged their way up the large front steps, bags and cages in hand, and pushed into the open entrance hall where other students could be seen laboring with their own luggage. The cold January wind sent a shiver through her and she was grateful when the whole party, minus their chaperones Tonks and Lupin, had made it inside. The large oak front doors were shut tightly against the frigid gusts of air outside and they were enveloped in warmth.

"Coming, Hermione?" Harry called from his place on the marble staircase. He, Ron, Ginny, and the twins had started for the Gryffindor common room while she had stood there, lost in thought. The sick feeling she had in the pit of her stomach, she now realized, could be attributed to more than one cause.

"I think I'm going to nip into the kitchens for a cup of tea," she answered with a smile. "I'll be there in a bit."

The group seemed to find her response a reasonable one, and they continued upstairs, talking amongst themselves. "House Elf donations" and "overdue library books," they mused along the way.

How could she have forgotten for even a minute that Draco Malfoy would once again be ruling the school with his bloody Inquisitorial Squad? That meant that she would find herself susceptible to his charms at any moment. He could come flying around a corner at the drop of a hat and try to woo her again in that ridiculous self-assured Malfoy way. And then what? He was essentially appointed to a school sanctioned police team, meaning he _was_ the authority. She would have to do what she was told.

Hermione was wringing her hands together in a bout of uncharacteristic worry over the matter when, just as suspected, Draco made his way lazily into the entrance hall, shiny cursive "I" badge gleaming from its position on his robes. Behind him swaggered Pansy Parkinson, Graham Montague, and Crabbe, with Goyle bringing up the rear.

Hermione froze for a moment, unsure of what she should do. Slip unseen down the corridor to the kitchens? Confront him before he found the chance to ambush her again? She opted for choice number three.

She turned on her heel, pointedly ignoring their march through the entrance hall as she continued towards the kitchens. Their abrasive laughter followed after her, no doubt the product of taunting a first year or docking someone by 50 House points.

"Oi! Granger!" Hermione heard Pansy Parkinson screech. She had been spotted, which meant that there was no escaping now.

She wheeled around just in time to see Malfoy's expression flicker slightly from its usual cocky grin.

"What?" she sighed in exasperation.

"Last time I checked, you're not in Hufflepuff," she said as though she were talking to a five year old.

"Well done, Pansy. What other observations do you have?" she taunted right back. Pansy's piggish face flushed in anger and she turned to Malfoy for support.

Draco took a step forward, and Hermione saw this as her opportunity to confront him. Better that it wasn't in front of all his best mates, too, she decided. Maybe she could let him down easily.

"Remember the other night, Malfoy, when we were in the corridor together? I wanted to talk to you about that. In private, maybe?"

Draco's face seemed to drain of what little color it had, and he gave a swift look to the other Squad members before rearranging his features into a mocking scowl.

"Are you talking about the night you ambushed me, Granger?" he laughed. There was a collective "Oooh" from his gang, and Pansy screeched in laughter.

"The Mudblood has a _crush_ on you? Did she try for a kiss?"

Hermione was dumbfounded for the first time in her living memory. "What? No, you were the one who-"

"Telling lies to get me in bed, this one is," he continued, cutting her off. "I'm flattered, but also quite disgusted, so thanks but no thanks. I don't date filth."

The lone Gryffindor felt her face growing hot with embarrassment at his rendition of that night's events. Hermione came to find that he had no intention of letting himself look like the guilty one in this scenario.

"I think there should be some punishment for slandering my name, Granger. No one in their right mind would ever try to lay a hand on you. I think… fifty points from Gryffindor. And another twenty five for sneaking to the kitchens." His followers guffawed stupidly and punched each other on the shoulders as though they'd accomplished some great feat.

Hermione stood there defiantly, refusing to show any signs of weakness in the face of her greatest adversary. The other Squad members turned to leave, while Draco stood for a moment looking at her. The triumphant smile left his face, to be replaced by something akin to pity. It may have been meant for her, but something told Hermione that what he felt was towards himself.

A slight nodding of her head was all Hermione was able to muster in response. She moved to walk past Draco, hiking her bag further up her shoulder as she went. Before she made it far, a hand came to grip her left arm.

"Wait," Draco said softly.

Hermione wrenched away from his grasp and continued walking, her cup of tea forgotten, feeling for all the world as though Draco was unworthy of her time.


	5. Chapter 5

***Hello, readers! I know I've fallen behind again on getting this chapter posted. It's been quite a challenge! I've gotten tripped up a bit in the process of writing, but I'd love to hear your feedback either way. Hermione is finding herself drawn into the mystery that is Draco Malfoy, whether she likes it or not! Read, comment, share with your friends, and then read it all again. Your opinions are what keep the story on an interesting track, after all. 3***

By the time Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George had been joined by Seamus, Dean, and Neville in their seats by the cozy fire. They were laughing heartily about something George was saying, and it became clear when she joined the circle that they had started a game of Truth or Dare, a Muggle game Harry introduced to them (originally learned the hard way from his cousin, Dudley).

"George just confessed his deep-rooted desire to be a blonde," said Dean, filling her in on what she missed. The others in the circle continued to chuckle.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disapproval. She really wasn't in the mood to talk about blondes at the moment.

"What?" George asked innocently, "You don't think it would suit me?"

"Well, we've all seen you gray and it doesn't suit you either," Hermione quipped, gaining more laughter from the group in response.

"Okay, then," George directed to her, "Truth or dare, Hermione?"

She took a moment to think it over from her position on the carpet at Harry's feet, aware of all eyes on her. "Dare," she said boldly. Playing a mindless game of Truth or Dare could be just the thing she needed to perk up from her disastrous encounter downstairs.

Fred and George consulted for a minute or so behind their hands while everyone waited for them to decide her fate. Seamus looked excited at the prospect of seeing Hermione do something ridiculous, while Neville's face reflected something akin to fear for what they might concoct. Ron sat slouched at the end of the couch with his arms crossed, every once in a while glancing in Hermione's direction.

"Okay," Fred said in an all-business tone. "We've decided-"

"-that your dare is to-" George cut in.

"-play in your underthings for the next three turns," they finished together.

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"That's ludicrous," she said firmly. "Think of something else."

Harry and Ginny exchanged looks with each other and Ron sat up a bit straighter in his seat. Seamus, Dean, and Neville looked decidedly more interested, likely wondering whether their newly appointed prefect would discard her propriety for a night.

Hermione felt a flush of color come to her face and lifted her chin a fraction of an inch in Fred and George's direction.

"That's the dare, Hermione," George said with amusement in his voice.

"Take it or leave it," Fred confirmed.

"Oh, go on, Hermione," said Ginny with a small laugh. "Remember what we talked about over holiday?"

Hermione recalled their conversation in the library during Christmas. She had said that the two of them needed to enjoy themselves a bit more, didn't she? With a small sigh, Hermione stood up. She pulled her sweater up over her head and let it drop to the floor, leaving only a thin pink camisole covering her lacy white bra. Next came her pleated skirt, which swished around her thighs and calves until it, too, hit the floor with a soft rustling sound. Hermione thanked Merlin that she'd chosen to wear her favorite pair of underwear today, light pink boy shorts that matched her camisole perfectly.

Seamus, Neville, and Dean hooted and clapped their approval while Harry, Ginny, George, and Fred all nudged one another, smiling at their triumph over their seemingly straight-laced friend and her regard for the rules. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ron swallow hard and grit his teeth, as though he were in pain. She thanked her stars that the other Gryffindors had decided to go to bed early for classes the next day.

"Happy?" Hermione asked the group with a small smirk on her face. She gave a small twirl with her arms up before sitting down primly in her spot again.

"_Very_," Seamus said.

"Now who's next?" Hermione asked, tapping her index finger to her lips conspiratorially, "Neville."

He sat forward in his seat on a pillow across from her. His face held a hint of worry, as though he may be forced to do something humiliating for the group (to add to his already lengthy list).

"Truth or dare?" she prompted.

"Erm, truth?" he answered uncertainly.

Hermione felt the warmth from the crackling fire lick against her exposed skin and she felt a renewed sense of excitement. She decided that, at least for the night, she could toss aside the restraint she'd practiced since the start of her Hogwarts education and focus on having fun for a change.

"Okay, then," she said, taking a moment to think of something good. "If you had to choose a teacher to snog, which one would it be?"

Neville's eyes grew wide as he looked around at his group of friends, laughing heartily and waiting for his answer.

"Um…" he stammered, trying to pick an answer that wouldn't be too degrading. "Professor McGonagall, maybe." His answer merited raucous laughter from the circle, and a swift punch on the arm from Seamus. "At least then I might get an E on my Transfiguration exams," he said with a grin, "and maybe she'll exceed my expectations, too."

The laughter grew louder, and Harry had to shush the group before someone came down from the dormitories to complain about the noise. In their conversation, the knock on the door to the common room entrance nearly went unheard, but Dean got up from his seat to see who would be calling at this hour. No one took much heed, seeing as they technically weren't being so loud as to merit a teacher visit. It was only when Dean began raising his voice to whoever was standing on the other side of the entrance hole that the others in the circle began to come alert.

"Who is it?" George and Harry called at the same time. They stood up from their seats as well to see who was there.

Hermione grabbed a pillow to cover her exposed legs before hearing the familiar drawling voice of Draco Malfoy from the hall.

"Relax, Potter," she heard him say from his position outside, "I'm not here to see you."

There were muffled words exchanged in heated voices that the remaining members of their circle couldn't hear. Hermione stood from her seat on the braided rug by the fire and moved to the open door, suddenly realizing who it was that Malfoy wanted to see.

"Hermione-" Harry started, looking at her petite frame nearly exposed for Malfoy 's eyes. Hermione put a hand up to silence him and took a throw blanket from the couch that Fred offered her.

She could see the concerned and confused looks being thrown her way as she stepped out into the hall and closed the portrait hole door behind her. Draco's face lit by the light of the torches overhead held an expression Hermione couldn't name. Somewhere between surprise and concern, he opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione held up a hand.

"I don't know why you'd bother coming here," she started, "But no matter what the reason, I think you need to leave."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm here to talk to you," he said in a softer voice than she expected.

"I don't want to talk, Malfoy. And if I'm not back inside soon, you know the others will be coming to get me."

"Such loyal lapdogs," he commented. Hermione suspected it was meant for himself rather than her. "Tonight," he went on, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Hermione wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders and looked down at her bare feet. "It's what you do best. Why apologize now?"

Draco shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes and frowned at her. "Because I want to. I-" he huffed, "I _need_ to."

Hermione shook her head, unsure of what he was getting at. "Your words don't mean anything, as far as I'm concerned."

"Dammit, Hermione," he said in exasperation. His raised voice echoed down the empty corridor and the two of them turned their heads to make sure no one had been alerted to the noise.

"What is it that you _want_, Malfoy?"

Hermione watched as Draco's eyes slid down her partially-covered figure, and she knew then what his answer would be before he said it. Fred's blanket had slipped off her shoulder, giving view to the smooth skin beneath it. Draco took a step closer, closing the space between them and placing a hand at the small of her back. The absence of her sweater made it easy to feel the warmth of his hand through the few layers of thin fabric. Hermione's breath hitched in her lungs, as Draco's face drew closer to hers.

Something about his demeanor tonight was different than what she could recall from previous run-ins. His hands were not rough on her, there was no snarky comeback prepared, and his Slytherin sneer was nowhere to be found.

The kiss she was expecting didn't come, though. While the hand behind her kneaded and rubbed, his other had coerced her arms to her sides. The blanket fell open, revealing her pink camisole and panties. Draco made a low moaning sound in the back of his throat and slid both hands underneath the silky material separating her from him. His fingers were cool against her skin, but gentle in their explorations. Hermione held still, unsure of whether she should allow him to continue.

His movements grew in their boldness as her breathing became shallower. He roamed the creamy surface of her waist and hips until the barrier of her panties interrupted. He slipped his fingertips beneath the elastic and held them still while he touched his lips to the edge of her jaw.

"You already know," he finally answered into her ear. It took a moment to recall what she had even asked, and Hermione let out an involuntary whimper, feeling her physical reaction to his attentions. Draco laughed into the curve of her neck. "What is it that _you_ want?"

Draco stepped in closer and Hermione felt her back settle firmly against the cold stone, bringing to her mind the night Draco revealed his feelings for her. Hermione began to panic slightly, knowing that at any moment someone could round a corner and see them together.

"Draco…" Hermione whispered.

"Mmm?" was his response. Before Hermione could breathe another word, Draco captured her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping gently at it, and then sucking it between his own. She felt her mouth open to his, emboldening him to his mission. Their tongues danced against each other's as she became fully engrossed in his kiss. His hands grasped at her hips, pressing them firmly on his. The evidence of his need stood out boldly for Hermione to find.

Through her muddled thoughts, Hermione managed to collect herself. "Stop," she murmured with her eyes closed. Draco continued, trailing kisses down her throat, moving towards her shoulder. "Stop."

He pulled away, breathing heavier than before. Hermione opened her eyes and looked away, pulling her blanket around her once again, feeling confused.

"Hermione," Draco started, but she held up a hand to him. He licked his lips and ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair, looking for all the world like a model from a Muggle magazine.

"What are you doing?" she asked weakly, turning her gaze away from him. "This is madness."

Draco sighed in frustration and turned around sharply, facing away from her. The feeling of embarrassment Hermione held in her chest eased a bit when his eyes left hers. She may not have been naked, but she felt as though she was fully exposed to him. Heat coiled itself inside her body, familiarizing itself with her heart, her stomach, her loins. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and tried to summon common logic once again. Draco was here. He regularly abused her and her friends in public for his entertainment. His father was likely a Death Eater, according to Harry. Why on earth should Hermione believe a word he says now?

For one agonizing moment Hermione wanted to go to him, but her better judgment intervened. This was all some sick ruse to humiliate her, or maybe even to get a rise out of Harry and Ron. Surely someone would see Draco with her and news would travel swiftly back to her best friends. Hadn't they all witnessed her leaving to talk with him tonight? The pieces of this ridiculous puzzle hadn't fallen into place, though, and that alone made Hermione's head ache.

"If this is all some bet you're trying to win, you can forget it," she said defensively. She crossed her arms into the folds of her blanket and turned to leave, but Draco's words held her motionless.

"You have no idea what this is," he said into the empty corridor he faced.

"Then tell me," she whispered, taken aback by the defeat she heard in his words.

Draco twisted around to face her. Hermione could see the pain etched clearly in his features, contorting the steel grey of his eyes into something akin to blackness.

"I can't."

And with those two silky syllables, Draco had disappeared down the shadowed hall, leaving Hermione wondering what- or who- was keeping his true motives in the dark. 


End file.
